


Good Boy

by torrential



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: M/M, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 20:09:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4679741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torrential/pseuds/torrential
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt's a good boy, and Foggy's going to tell him until he believes it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a request on the Daredevil Kink Meme but not an actual fill for it.

"Look at you."

Not for the first time, Matt wishes he could. See himself through Foggy's eyes, truly know what he's thinking when he looks at him instead of having to extrapolate from skin-heat and the thump-thump rush of his blood and mere words. Not that it's hard to extrapolate from the evidence Foggy presents to him, the excited shallow breaths, the slickness of tongue moving slow and deliberate over his chapped lower lip. Matt can feel Foggy's regard on his skin, wants to curl up to protect himself from being lovingly flayed open while at the same time blossom under it like a light-starved flower.

He lays motionless instead, Foggy's knees settled around his hips in a reassuring hold. Foggy is tracing the lines of his throat, his collarbones, a random path that nevertheless feels... awed. Delicate and grateful, as if he's being allowed to caress a work of art. Like it's _Matt_ giving him the pleasure of doing this to him. Matt swallows hard, feeling his Adam's apple bob against Foggy's fingers as they pass by.

"Look at you, being such a good boy. So good for me, Matty, such a good sweet beautiful boy."

The words pluck something in him just this side of too much, like a cramped muscle twinging and then releasing all at once. He can't hold back the low sob as he sucks in air, gasps, "Please."

"Please what? Are you going to beg pretty for me?"

" _Please_ ," Matt repeats helplessly. It's almost a request to _stop_ , to give him time to wrap his body around the ache Foggy's praise elicits in the tenderest parts of him. It really does feel like a cramping muscle, twisting his lungs shut under the force of the reaction. Pain is almost a lifestyle choice by now but this gentle adoration threatens to undo him at every seam, sharp as knives and so, so good. "Please!"

"Tell me, Matt. Tell me what you want." A feather-blessing of a touch across his furrowed brow, and Matt's expression goes slack, any communication beyond a drunken moan momentarily escaping him as he chases Foggy's hand. Blunt fingers slip down to his panting mouth, trace his lips before pressing briefly inside. Matt eagerly sucks salt and musk off of Foggy's skin, laps at him. He can't help it, his mouth watering for everything that Foggy is, that Foggy can press into him.

Foggy seems to realize that he's being distracting, runs a steady thumb across Matt's lower lip to calm and gentle him, give him something steady to focus on. "Talk to me, Matt," he says again.

Matt usually has no problem asking for more of what Foggy does to him, but that's in the heat of the moment or affirmation when Foggy asks him light and teasing. Not like this, put on the spot and pinned open by his own desires. He knows what he wants but he wants _so many things_ that they tangle around his tongue, velvet-hot and burgeoning with need. Matt swallows again, and Foggy cups his cheek. "You deserve good things, Matt. It's okay to ask. Anything you want."

The knowledge that Foggy means it, that he really will give Matt anything he asks for, is heady and terrifying, an ocean of possibility and reassurance and _love_ that unspools at his feet. It's too much, and Matt's resultant whine is wretched with emotion. He _wants_ but he _doesn't_ deserve what Foggy will give him, he can't presume to ask for more than he already has, more than he'd ever expected--

"Shh, shh." Bless Foggy, he realizes that Matt's starting to go under. His thumbs move to wick the tears away from the corners of Matt's eyes. "It's okay. My good boy, my beautiful boy, so good and perfect." Broad hands cup his flushed cheeks and Matt wraps his own fingers around Foggy's wrists, grounding himself in the pulse he can now feel as well as hear, sucks in shuddering breaths as Foggy soothes him. "Too much, hm? You're doing so, so well, Matt, so good and brave for me."

Matt doesn't feel brave. Matt feels like Foggy's running his fingertips over places that have been sequestered away from sunshine for too long. It hurts, it hurts, but it also feels _safe_ in an inside-out way. A few more breaths that feel as if the air is whistling in cold through cracks in his ribcage before he licks his lips and rasps out, "Kiss me...?"

That's the least of what Matt wants right now, but it does perfectly well to start. A soft breath, and then the huskiness of Foggy's voice tells Matt that he's pleased, and his whole being thrums in harmonic response. "That's it," Foggy encourages in a croon, obviously delighted. "You're doing so well. My good, _brave_ boy, telling me what you want."

Matt still doesn't feel very brave but then again, he doesn't have to as Foggy leans down to give him what he asked for, bracing himself now with his hands on Matt's shoulders. Slow and hot and filthy wet, sucking at his lower lip, exactly what Matt needs right now. His groan originates somewhere near the base of his spine as he wraps his arms about Foggy's shoulders to keep him close, kiss him forever.

"I'm gonna make you come screaming first," Foggy promises against his mouth, and Matt whimpers as his words paint the sensation right across his too-ready body. "Then I'm gonna work you open nice and slow. Gonna _enjoy_ you, Matty, all tight and hot, all for me. Feel your heartbeat from the inside out as you fuck yourself on my fingers." He shifts off of him to one side, wringing a bereft noise out of Matt before he lies down pressed against him from ankle to shoulder and spreads his fingers over the flat of Matt's belly like a possessive brand. Matt's cock twitches at the thought. "Do you want that? Matt?"

" _Yes_." He wants all of that and more. Greedy, so greedy, he wants, he wants, he _wants_. "F-Foggy--"

"God, you're so hard and I've barely touched you." Foggy slides his palm a bare inch down Matt's stomach, then another, until he's resting on Matt's pelvis and Matt's straining cock almost touches the back of his hand. "Such a good boy, Matt, so sweet and ready for me." Matt still has a half-grip around Foggy's shoulders and uses it to roll toward him, seek out another kiss. Foggy indulges him, sweeter and softer this time, lingering like he wants to breathe grace into Matt, caress the raw tattered parts of him like they're precious. "You deserve so many good things, Matty," he says again, and Matt keens softly, more tears tingeing the air with salt. "Good boy, _good_ boy. You're being so good for me."

Pulled apart, laid bare, and Matt buries his face against the warmth of Foggy's throat and lets the scenttastetouchlife of _Foggy_ hold his fraying edges together. Foggy hums quietly, vibration tickling Matt's lips under tender skin, and strokes his hair. For long moments -- he doesn't know how long, his heart and Foggy's the kind of timekeeping found only in dreaming -- he drinks him in, settles back into his skin where Foggy's words pulse and glow under his breastbone.

"Can you tell me what else you want now?" Foggy asks after awhile, careful and kind. Overwhelmed, Matt silently shakes his head, sweat-soaked strands of hair whispering against Foggy's neck. Foggy hums again. "Brave boy, good boy, knowing when to say no."

A kiss to his forehead, the first of many as Foggy tips Matt's face up toward him and marks a trail down the side of his face to the corner of his jaw and past. His breath shivers over the shell of Matt's ear and Matt can't help but squirm. "I'm going to fuck you until you forget what it's like to be empty," Foggy whispers. Matt goes still again, eyes widening in hapless reaction and the need Foggy inflames in him with a master's surety. "I'll fill you to the brim and give you more -- because that's what you want, Matt, isn't it?"

Matt may be the one with the heightened senses but sometimes it's like Foggy can read his mind. He trembles with the force of his desire, barely manages the nod. Just when a scream is building in his throat, Foggy wraps his fingers about his weeping cock and strokes once -- twice--

Matt plants his feet against the rucked sheets and arches with a wail, comes so hard his senses withdraw in the face of the pleasure and heat that explodes from within. The world is pulsing light, hard and fast, overriding the flickers of flame that comprise his sense of things until there's nothing left but himself, momentarily no longer a burden.

When he spirals down off the high, the first external input to return to him is Foggy's voice, murmuring, "I've got you, Matty, I've got you," over and over. A verbal safety net, a lifeline, tethering all his pieces after Foggy has so expertly taken him apart. Over sweat and musk and seed thick in his nose and coating the back of his palate, there is more salt.

Foggy kisses the tears away. "Beautiful, Matt. You're doing so well." Matt closes his eyes, feeling wrung-out and scoured in the best way, and weeps quietly. "Good Matt, _so_ good. I'll take care of you."

And in that, Matt hears _I love you._


End file.
